All Fun and Games
by sodsta
Summary: Cartman has something of Kyle's, but in order to get it back, Kyle has to play the game. warnings for non-con and abuse


"This better be quick, Cartman," said Kyle, stepping aside as Cartman closed the front door behind him. "I was in the middle of reading."

"Oh, yeah, yeah, sure, Kahl," Cartman replied, nodding and making his way to the back of the hallway. "This won't take long. Come on." He beckoned Kyle over with a wave of his chubby hand and Kyle rolled his eyes and followed. He had a feeling he was either going to be infinitely disappointed or thoroughly disgusted. Either way, he wasn't looking forward to it. When Cartman had called and desperately pleaded with him to come over and take a look at something, Kyle had been sorely tempted just to hang up and continue reading. In fact, he had. It was the _fourth_ phone call that had finally been too much. He would have left the phone off the hook, but the last time he'd done that his dad had spent forty five minutes having a conversation with the automated message guy on the other end. He'd decided it was in everyone's best interests for him to just go and see what Cartman wanted. He'd be gone again in a few minutes, anyway.

Cartman opened the basement door and beckoned again before clicking on the light and lumbering heavily down the stairs. Kyle followed, running through a list of things it was likely to be. He couldn't seem to get weaponry out of his mind for some reason.

"Close the door, Kahl," Cartman said, looking up at him from the bottom of the stairs. Kyle narrowed his eyes but did as Cartman said, pulling the door closed and moving to join him in the basement. He couldn't see anything at first glance, but that didn't mean anything. Cartman just looked at him for a while and Kyle found himself growing more and more impatient in the silence.

"What?" he asked, frowning. "What is it you wanted to show me?"

Cartman smiled sweetly and moved further into the room, picking up a backpack and holding it out to Kyle. "It's in here. I got it the other day."

Kyle eyed the bag suspiciously, going through every size-relevant item he could think of. It could be a gun… but then why would Cartman be handing it to him? He looked from the bag to Cartman's face. "What is it?" he asked, sounding every bit as suspicious as he knew he looked.

"Take a look," Cartman replied, shaking the bag a little, as if trying to entice him. The bag jingled and Kyle cursed his own curiosity as he gave in and took the bag from Cartman's hand. It was heavy and felt quite full, but it didn't feel like a single item. More like lots of different little ones. Kyle put the bag down on the floor and crouched beside it as he pulled open the zipper and looked inside. He was silent for a minute as his eyes moved over each item in turn, then confusion got the better of him.

"What the Hell is this?" he asked, standing up back up and looking at Cartman.

Cartman rolled his eyes. "It's bondage stuff, Kahl. Really, that's pretty obvious."

"I know what it is, fat ass," Kyle replied, annoyed at the condescending tone in Cartman's voice. "Why the Hell would you want to show me that? I'm not interested in your sick sexual fantasies."

Cartman sighed a long-suffering sigh, as if dealing with some sort of retard. Kyle clenched his jaw. "See, Kahl," Cartman began. "It seemed only fitting I show them to you. You were, after all, the reason I bought them."

Kyle blinked at Cartman for several seconds, wondering if he was actually just losing his mind, then he frowned again. "What?!" he asked, anger making his voice rise and crack slightly. "What are you talking about, fatso? I don't want to be part of your weird sex games."

The smile on Cartman's face twisted into a more familiar smirk. "I don't think you have much of a choice, Kahl."

"Yeah," Kyle nodded. "I do." He turned and started back up the stairs, intent on getting back to his comic and forgetting this whole thing had ever happened.

"I wouldn't do that, Kahl," came Cartman's voice from behind him. Kyle knew the best thing to do would be to just keep walking, but curiosity once again gripped him. He growled, more at himself than anything else, and turned back round.

"Why?" he snapped, pretty sure that Cartman didn't have a reason. But this was Cartman… there was always a chance he had something up his sleeve. Sneaky, fat bastard.

"Oh," Cartman said, trying to look innocent. "No, nothing, Kahl. You just go home. It's fine."

Kyle looked at him for a while, trying to decide if it was worth playing Cartman's game. He decided it wasn't. He turned again and kept going up, towards the door.

"I'm sure he'll probably forgive you," Cartman cried up the stairs after him. "One day."

Kyle span back round. "Who? What are you talking about, fat ass?" he asked, feeling his cheeks heat up in annoyance. He hated that Cartman always knew what buttons to press. "Who will probably forgive me?"

"Ike," Cartman said plainly. "I'm sure he'll find it in his heart to forgive you. You know, when you're on your death bed. Or you know… maybe he won't. I guess you'll find out." Cartman sighed sadly, then shook his head. "Oh well… see you later, Kyle."

Kyle could feel his insides burn with an insatiable and a completely ridiculous curiosity that he already knew he was going to regret. He turned back round and descended the stairs again, joining Cartman in the dimly lit basement. "What about Ike?" he asked, trying to keep the obvious rage from his voice. "What has this got to do with Ike?"

"Oh," said Cartman, nonchalantly reaching into his back pocket. "Just this." He pulled out a piece of paper with a Polaroid photograph printed on it. Kyle snatched it from Cartman's hand and felt his heart leap into his throat at what he saw. The photo was of Ike in what looked to be some sort of metal cage-like device, shaped like the outline of a man. Kyle couldn't see anything in the picture that might otherwise indicate Ike's location and he felt his blood boil as he tore his eyes away from the picture of his brother's tear-stained face.

"WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE TO MY BROTHER, YOU BASTARD?!" he shouted, scrunching the piece of paper in his hand as it balled into a tight, angry fist.

Cartman turned around and moved to the only chair in the room and took a seat. "Oh, he's fine, Kahl. Just fine. But whether or not he stays that way is up to you."

Kyle watched in anger as Cartman pulled a packet of cigarettes from his pants pocket and lit one, taking a big puff and he stuffing the packet back into his jeans. Kyle could feel his whole body tremble. "What did you do to him?" he asked, his voice now much lower and sharper. He couldn't kill Cartman until he knew where Ike was and it was taking every ounce of self control he had not to just throw himself at Cartman and rip his fat face to shreds.

"Nothing yet," Cartman said, taking another drag and tilting his head back to blow the smoke towards the ceiling. He probably thought he looked smooth. Like some sort of Bond villain. He just looked like an ugly, fat retard bastard smoking. "And if you want it to stay that way, Kahl, I suggest you cooperate."

Kyle's whole face felt like it was on fire and all he could do was watch Cartman in silence while running through every single disembowelling scenario he could think of.

"The bag, Kahl," Cartman said, gesturing to it lazily. "Pass it to me."

Kyle glared at Cartman, then down at the bag, before kicking it angrily to him, hearing it jangle at the impact. Cartman seemed unfazed. He took another drag on his cigarette exhaled into the bag as he rummaged around inside it. Kyle could feel his back teeth grinding against each other. Cartman looked up after a while and threw something black and leather at him. Kyle grabbed it and caught it reflexively, only to frown when he realised it was a collar.

"Put it on," Cartman said, smirking through the smoke. Kyle sneered and dropped it.

"I'm not playing your sick little game, Cartman," he said. "Just tell me where Ike is and I _might_ not shit on your corpse after I've killed you."

"I'm sorry, Kahl," said Cartman, tilting his head to one side and causing his neck fat to form multiple folds. "Perhaps I didn't explain the situation properly. You see… Ike stays where he is until you do what I say. If you don't, well… who _knows_ what might happen. And I'd _hate_ to think what your mom would say if she found out you could have stopped it. Wouldn't that be awful, Kahl?"

Kyle wanted to kill him. To wrap piano wire so tightly around his throat that it sliced through the miles of blubber he called skin and took his head clean off. He could feel his arms shake, but he didn't move.

"So…" Cartman said, smiling again. "Put in on."

Kyle glared at Cartman through narrowed eyes for some times, before reluctantly bending down to retrieve the discarded collar from the floor. He let go of the crumpled picture of Ike as he stood back up and unbuckled the leather strap with angry, shaking fingers. The leather felt uncomfortable against his skin as he reached behind to fasten it – new and stiff and unyielding. He could smell it, too. It was obvious it had never been used before.

Cartman shifted in his chair, his cigarette hanging between his two fingers, watching intently. "That's good, Kahl," he said gruffly, before reaching into the bag again, pulling out another toy and flinging it at him. "Now put that on."

Kyle caught it again, turning it over in his hands, feeling his forehead start to ache from his constant frowning. It was obviously some sort of gag, Kyle could tell that much. He looked up at Carman. "I'm not putting this on," he said, matter-of-factly. If Cartman was going to play sick games then Kyle was certainly not going to allow himself to be completely defenceless.

"Oh?" Cartman replied, taking a final drag of his cigarette before throwing the butt into the corner. "That's a real shame, Kahl. Poor little Ike. So young. So much to look forward to." He sighed. "Maybe I'll only cut off six fingers…"

"Alright!" Kyle growled, unfastening the buckle. "I'll wear the fucking gag."

"I thought you might," Cartman smirked. "And do it up nice and tight, Kahl."

"I hate you," Kyle said, getting in one last verbal attack before he was rendered silent. He pushed the ball into his mouth, holding it in his teeth and pulling the strap through the buckle, purposefully fastening it too loose and hoping that Cartman wouldn't notice. No such luck.

"Tighter, Kahl," Cartman drawled, raising an eyebrow. Kyle exhaled angrily through flared nostrils and pulled the strap tighter, fastening it when he could feel the straps dig uncomfortably into his cheeks. Cartman smiled and rummaged around once again inside the bag. He was a little longer in there this time, and it was a pair of shiny metal handcuffs that Kyle caught next.

"There's a pipe just behind you," he said. "On the ceiling."

Kyle looked up and saw it a few feet away.

"Handcuff yourself to it," Cartman instructed. "Both hands."

Kyle took a few steps back until he was standing directly under the pipe and looked down at the handcuffs glinting in his hands. Once he did this, he would be completely helpless. This was his last chance to run and the stairs were looking awfully tempting, but this was for Ike. As annoying as he sometimes was, Ike was his little brother and he couldn't let anything happen to him. He would never forgive himself if Ike got hurt because of him and he couldn't take the risk that Cartman was bluffing. It wouldn't be the first time Cartman had gone all psycho and hurt someone.

No, this was his only option.

He clicked one cuff closed around his right wrist and raised his hands above his head, reaching up for the pipe. It was higher than he'd first thought, causing him to stand on his toes as he passed the other cuff over the pipe and pushed it closed around his other wrist.

Cartman shifted again, looking like a giant, smug, overfed cat. He reached into his pocket again for his cigarettes and lit one, just chucking the packet onto the floor as he stood up and made his way over to Kyle.

"Nice, Kahl," he said, looking at his cuffed wrists and gagged mouth. "Very nice."

Kyle glared silently and coughed as Cartman blew a puff of smoke right into his face. The gag made coughing an uncomfortable experience and Kyle felt his cheeks burn as a line of saliva dribbled from his mouth and down over his chin.

"Oh, gross," Cartman exclaimed, pulling a face. "You're just lucky that wasn't on the carpet. I'd make you lick it back up."

Kyle bit down on the ball in his mouth, resisting the urge to try and spew expletives in Cartman's direction. He knew he couldn't speak and he wasn't about to humiliate himself further by trying. He glowered as Cartman reached up and curled a strand of his messy red hair round a podgy finger and winced when Cartman tugged on it, pulling his head painfully to one side.

"You'll hang around for a while, won't you, Kahl?" he asked, blowing more smoke into Kyle's face. Kyle held his breath this time and closed his eyes. "Because my dinner will be ready soon and I'm mega hungry."

Kyle remained silent and Cartman tugged on his hair again, harder. "AY!" he squealed. "ANSWER ME, YOU FUCKIN' JEW!".

Kyle spat out a mumbled 'fuck you', which only resulted in more drool spilling over his stretched lips and dripping off his chin.

"Good," Cartman said, sounding satisfied with the response. He let go of Kyle's hair and gave his cheek a slap before throwing his half-smoked cigarette into the corner with the other one. "I'll see you later, Kahl."

He turned and made his way up the stairs, turning off the light and closing the door behind him.

Kyle watched in disbelief, almost unable to comprehend what had just happened. Cartman had _actually_ just left him alone and tied up in his basement. In the dark. It was like something out of some ridiculous crime movie. Kyle didn't actually know if he should have been thankful Cartman had left; at least he couldn't hurt him or touch him if he was in another room. On the other hand… Kyle was helpless and should he start choking or his hands go numb, he had no way of getting out.

He looked up at the cuffs circling his wrists and gave them a tug, testing the strength of both the shackles and the connecting chain. They held. The edges of the cuffs dug into his wrists as he twisted his wrists, trying to find the keyhole. He knew it was probably a fruitless endeavour, but perhaps if he could get a look at the lock he could figure out a way to pick it. It was no use, though. The keyholes on both cuffs were too far away and the room was too dark for him to make anything out. He fumbled over one with the pad of his thumb, but he was struck with no amazing inspiration. It just felt like a hole, and he had nothing to pick it with, anyway.

He groaned in pain as he tried to pull one cuff over his hand, screwing his face up in concentration as it bit into his skin and ground against the knuckle on his thumb. When that cuff proved too small to remove, he tried the other, with just as little success. He'd stupidly put the handcuffs on too tight. He really should have had more forethought, but he'd been too concerned with Ike's safety to think about details like, well… not being an idiot.

His wrists ached by the time he'd struggled himself out and he slumped as much as the cuffs would allow to try and preserve his remaining energy. His calves ached from standing up on his toes and he could feel the tips of his fingers starting to go cold. There was also dried and flaky drool all over his chin and fresh drool dripping onto his t-shirt every couple of minutes. He'd tried to push the gag from his mouth several times, if for nothing more than the chance to swallow, but it was jammed in just as tightly as Cartman had instructed and wasn't coming out any time soon. At least he'd made an effort with that, though.

It must have been at least an hour and a half before Kyle heard the basement door open again.

The light flickered on and Kyle squinted into it as Cartman locked the door behind him and plodded loudly down the stairs. He watched Cartman closely, eyes once again narrowed as Cartman walked back to his chair, sat down and picked his packet of cigarettes back up off the floor. Cartman didn't speak as he sparked up, took a drag and leaned back in his chair, legs spread and chin lifted. Kyle looked up at his red, mark wrists again, wondering if it was worth another escape attempt. He decided against it, though; he knew it would be futile and giving Cartman a laugh at his expense was not an appealing prospect.

The cigarette in Cartman's fingers was smoked nearly all the way down to the butt before he finally spoke.

"That must be pretty sore, huh, Kahl?" he asked, his eyes visibly gleaming. Kyle didn't bother to try and respond, just glared at him in silence, clenching and unclenching his fists to try and fight off the pins and needles he could feel working their way up his fingers.

"I bought some padded leather cuffs, too, you know." Cartman went on. "But I thought the metal ones would hurt more. Was I right, Kahl? Do they hurt a lot?"

Kyle growled in the back of his throat and looked away, unable to even look at Cartman without feeling like he might vomit with rage. Yes, it hurt, and the bastard knew it. He heard Cartman take another pull on his cigarette before the scrape of wood against concrete told him Cartman had stood. He watched the other boy's feet as he approached, wanting to avoid looking at his ugly, douche bag face for as long as possible.

"You look so good hanging there, Kahl," Cartman said as he came to stand a mere few inches in front of him. Kyle could smell the gravy on his breath. "Like a little Jew doll."

Kyle's eyes snapped to Cartman's face and narrowed, a string of mumbled and unintelligible curse words spilling from round the large plastic ball between his teeth. He always played the fucking Jew card. Always. The stupid, evil, racist dick.

"I'm so sorry," Cartman replied, batting his eyelashes in an unconvincing display of innocence. "I didn't quite catch that."

Kyle wished more than anything that he could spit at him. Right in the fucking eye. All he could do, though, was glare and drool all over his own t-shirt.

"I have something for you, Kahl", Cartman said, suddenly moving away and throwing his finished cigarette carelessly to the floor. He picked up the bag and carried it over to Kyle, placing it on the floor on front of him and rummaging around inside. The urge to kick Cartman in the balls was so intensely strong, but before he could act, Cartman was pulling out a long plastic rod and standing up again. "Do you now what this is, Kahl?" he asked, holding the thing up. It had a large, bulbous tip and a mains lead, but Kyle couldn't see he'd ever seen one before. He shook his head.

"It's called a magic wand," Cartman informed, flicking a switch on the side. Nothing happened, but Kyle could only assume it needed to be plugged in first. "I've never used one before, but the guy in the shop said it's amazing. I thought I'd try it out on you first."

Kyle could feel his heartbeat speed up as he watched Cartman plug the thing into the wall mains. He tugged on his wrists again, feeling the cuffs scrape cruelly against his already tender skin. It was when Cartman reached for his fly, though, that Kyle's anger and suspicion turned to panic. He swore around the gag and turned to the side, pulling his hips away from Cartman's hands, but his position meant movement in any direction was severely limited and Cartman managed to unfasten his zipper and pull his trousers and underwear down to his ankles with very minimal chasing. Kyle growled, trying to lift his leg to cover himself, but the fabric pooled around his ankles now meant that his legs were effectively trapped and he could barely lift his foot from the floor.

"You _do_ have ginger pubes," Cartman said, laughing as he looked down at Kyle's groin. Kyle felt his cheeks burn as he continued to try and hide, his hands working furiously in the cuffs. "You know, I'd always wondered. I didn't actually think God would have been as cruel as to have made you a Jew _and_ given you ginger pubes. Oh, Kahl, that's hilarious."

Kyle mumbled angrily again as Cartman laughed, feeling a rage so pure that it felt like his blood had turned to acid and was corroding him from the inside out. He was so angry that the surprise and horror he would have otherwise felt when Cartman grabbed his balls was still only a secondary emotion to the hatred burning in his chest. He tried to move his hips away again, but Cartman's grip tightened and tugged back and Kyle let out a strangled groan of pain as he felt Cartman squeeze his balls in his chubby little fist.

"I'd be a good little puppet, Kahl, or I could easily rip these off." He squeezed again and Kyle closed his eyes against the pain, his body tense all over as he forced himself to stop struggling. "That's better," Cartman said, and Kyle could hear the smirk in his voice. He felt something cool and plastic being pressed against his balls and he opened his eyes just before Cartman flicked the switch and the magic wand buzzed into life. He gasped and moaned, whimpering pathetically behind the gag as he tugged on the cuffs again and tried to move away. Cartman's grip didn't loosen at all, though, and all he could do was squirm uselessly on the spot, feeling his mind slowly start to dissolve and melt into a pile of retarded goo.

"That feels good, doesn't it?" Cartman cooed, watching him intently as the wand vibrated mercilessly over his nerve endings. "I can tell. Look at you… I bet I could make you come if I kept going, couldn't I?"

Kyle mumbled again, but it wouldn't have been words even without the gag. He tried to protest, but it was half-hearted and he hated himself for it. He knew he should be fighting harder and struggling out of Cartman's grasp, but his body wouldn't let him. He could feel his cock start to harden, acting in opposition to every hateful thought and feeling in his body, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. He heard Cartman's nasty little chuckle and he gave a token squirm and twist of the hips as he felt the wand move up the length of his rapidly stiffening cock, to the already sensitive head.

The noise that escaped his throat didn't sound human, even to him, and it wasn't conscious. Cartman's fingers were still tight on his balls and every time he moved he could feel the tug on his skin, but the vibrations were so intense and he couldn't take it that directly. It was too sensitive and every time he moved away, Cartman pulled him back, sending jolts of pain and brain-melting pleasure straight to his very core.

It was only when he could feel himself approaching the brink of an orgasm that he tried to speak, to plead with Cartman to stop. His mind was still clear enough to recognise that coming in Cartman's hand would be the ultimate form of humiliation and he didn't want that. He didn't think he'd ever be able to live it down. He gasped and grunted as he struggled, mumbling and drooling, his struggles becoming stronger and more desperate until the vibrations and Cartman's hand disappeared and Kyle was left panting and sagging in the handcuffs, trying to stop his vision from swimming.

"Jesus fuck, Kahl," Cartman panted, holding the still-vibrating wand by his side. He threw it to one side and it buzzed loudly against the floor as it slithered around the room like some sort of living creature. Kyle watched Cartman reach for his own fly through the haze in his vision, but it wasn't until Cartman stepped out of his trousers and walked behind him that Kyle realised what was happening. He cried out loudly behind the gag, thrashing wildly as Cartman grabbed his hips and pulled him against his sweaty body. He tried to raise his legs to kick out, but his jeans held his ankles together as Cartman pressed the head of his cock against his asshole and pushed forward.

It felt like Cartman had just shoved a red hot poker inside him, and he grunted breathlessly as he clenched instinctively around the intrusion. Cartman's grip on his hip was hard, fingers digging painfully into his hipbone and grinding carelessly. The pain in his wrists didn't seem to matter anymore… in fact, he could hardly feel it… his senses were dominated by the burning, stinging, scraping feeling in his ass.

"Crap," Cartman growled angrily into his ear. "This fucking hurts, you fuck!"

Kyle couldn't even wrap his mind around that statement, and he wanted to scream at Cartman that it couldn't hurt nearly as much as what he was going through so he should just fucking go kill himself. He choked as he swallowed a mouthful of saliva and shook his head, growling and groaning and trying to find some way to block out the pain.

He felt Cartman push all the way in until his balls were pressed against Kyle's ass cheeks, before pulling out again, agonisingly slowly, and thrusting back in again. Cartman's pathetic grunts and complaints were enough to make Kyle's head spin with delirious, disbelieving hatred, and every time Cartman moaned, Kyle could feel his skin crawl.

After a while Kyle stopped struggling, glaring down at the floor as Cartman pounded relentlessly into him. He growled when Cartman's hand appeared from behind him and took hold of his cock, stroking it clumsily as he continued to thrust. Kyle closed his eyes and bit down hard on the gag, knowing his body was going to betray him no matter how much he told it not to. He felt Cartman shudder behind him and something warm and wet filling him from the inside. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know what it was, and before Kyle even had the proper time to be duly disgusted, his own orgasm was ripped from him, leaving him shaking in his restraints and feeling completely and utterly drained and beaten.

He winced as Cartman pulled out of him and tried to regain his proper footing. Cartman redressed and grabbed the slithering wand, turning it off and kicking it to one side. He grabbed the bag and walked back over to the chair, sitting down and once again pulling out his packet of smokes. "Well," he said, lighting up and taking a puff. "I had a lot of fun" He smirked. "How 'bout you, Kahl?"

Kyle just exhaled loudly and averted his eyes, just hoping that everything was over.

Cartman stood up and walked over to him, moving behind him and removing the gag. Kyle's jaw ached and clicked as he closed his mouth, and he could taste blood on the corners of his lips where the straps had dug in too tight.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" Cartman asked, smirking as he appeared in front of him again.

Kyle's jaw clenched. "Let Ike go, or I swear I'll rip you apart from the inside."

"Oh, that," Cartman snorted. "I don't have your brother. I have better things to do with my time."

Kyle felt his stomach plummet. "But… the picture…"

Cartman looked at him for a minute, then laughed. "Oh,… oh, poor little Kahl. Don't know you a PhotoShopped picture when you see one? Really, Kahl, you're such a pathetic douche."

Kyle felt his whole face burn again and all he could do was stare down at the floor in disbelief as Cartman continued to laugh at him.

"You know," Cartman said finally, after his laughter had calmed down. "I don't think this is something you'll want to bother Stan and Kenny about, is it? I mean… you would hate for them to see you like this, wouldn't you? All helpless and covered in your own bodily fluids. I'm sure it would be terribly embarrassing for you."

Kyle watched as Cartman went back over to the bag and pulled out a Polaroid camera. He tried to turn his head, but it really was no use. The flash went off and Cartman pulled the picture from the camera, shaking it in the air until the picture developed. "Oh, yes, that's a nice one. See, Kahl…?" He approached and held the picture up in front of Kyle's face. "See how the angle of the light highlights the come stains on your pants. Quite beautiful really."

"I hate you, Cartman," was All Kyle could manage. He felt like he might be physically sick and it was taking all he had to keep the stinging in his eyes from becoming anything more.

"I can assure you the feeling is entirely mutual," Cartman replied, before pulling a key from his pocket and unlocking the handcuffs around Kyle's wrists. Kyle collapsed to the floor, not having realised quite how sore and shaking his legs had become. The key landed on the floor in front of him and he looked up to see Cartman flinging the bag over his shoulder and making his way towards the stairs.

"You can just put the rest of the stuff in the corner when you're done," he said. "Oh… and don't forget to take a shower when you get home. That stuff's gonna dry crusty."

All Kyle could do was sit in a heap on the floor and watch him leave.


End file.
